Prototype: The Lost and Forgotten Series

by Robert Gallagher

  Wheeler takes the lead and heads down toward the facility, with Dr. Zorn following behind. Just a few minutes out from the command ship, the cryostation detection grid alerts the sentries to an unscheduled craft entering restricted space. The cryostation is not only the holding station for all prisoners waiting to be sent down to the facility but also the criminal courts, federation habitat, and station security.

  Not unlike the facility with its state-of-the-art systems, the station security has its own advanced system. Within moments of an unidentified craft entering restricted space, the station alerts security, and the weapon systems lock on to the craft, the speed and agility of which is impressive. Moments after the first, another system alert sounds as a second craft is detected, sending the crew into uncertainty.

  System tests prior to the facility coming online had the crew running hundreds of simulations, and they’d run the procedures perfectly, but this second alert sends the crew into shock. Is it another test or a real threat? By the time the senior officer regains his composure, the first craft has almost reached the docking tube. When the order to fire is given, the weapon system emits a concentrated dual burst of photon lasers that fire across the top of the facility, the beam’s arc being affected by the mass of the black hole, but all this is taken into account, and the laser smashes into the craft, a direct hit, the energy blasting easily through the shell and turning the oxygen within the craft into a sudden ball of blue light that glows with incandescent heat, burning brightly for a few seconds before dissipating. The wreckage smashes harmlessly into the facility and breaks up.

  The command ship issues orders to cease fire, but the second burst has already been released. Dr. Zorn, seeing Wheeler’s pod destroyed, sets his own pod to full power as he enters the gravity field surrounding the station and heads for the docking tube, but, already realizing that he will not make it, he waits as long as he dares before hitting the ejection release. At that moment the photon laser incinerates his pod, igniting the oxygen, Dr. Zorn’s ejection seat blasting him away as the fireball momentarily envelops him and the pod before dissipating but causing major burns over his suit and seat. His ejection system has fired him clear of the main detonation, but he isn’t out of danger yet. The speed of his ejection seat has shot him out at a perpendicular angle to the facility, but his downward thrust has not been altered that much. He quickly enters his new coordinates to his seat, hoping that the maneuvering jets have enough power to reduce his thrust. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices his pod suddenly impact against the facility and disintegrate into thousands of deadly shards of metal.

  A warning light flashes as the seat’s main thrusters begin to fail. Designed primarily for short-flight capabilities and not for hard deceleration, the thrusters have miraculously held out long enough to slow the doctor’s descent and bring him down to his new destination, a maintenance hatch jutting out from the top of the facility. Detaching himself from his seat, he pushes away from it to land down by the hatch, the facility’s gravity giving him some freedom of movement within the vacuum of space. Another flashing light accompanied by an urgent beeping noise sounds as the suit’s pressurization fails. With oxygen depleting fast, Dr. Zorn fumbles at the hatch controls, trying desperately to open the door, but his efforts are rewarded with access denied. Dr. Zorn begins gasping as the remaining oxygen supply reaches zero, and then the airlock hatch hisses and opens, astonishingly a man is standing within the airlock without any signs of an environmental suit. He reaches out toward Dr. Zorn and, grabbing hold of his suit, pulls him inside. Once past the airlock hatch, the door closes behind him, followed by the airlock’s pressurization cycle.

  Dr. Zorn’s burning lungs rejoice at the presence of breathable air as the full gravitational effects of the facility take over, and the doctor slumps to the ground, drawing a lungful of air as his visor opens. The stranger continues to stand waiting patiently as the doctor slowly regains his strength and carefully stands to regard his rescuer, confused as to how this man could survive the vacuum of space unprotected.

  “Hello, Dr. Zorn. Welcome to Facility Zero. I am sure that’s how the others greet newcomers here. My name is Samael, but most know me here as Samuel.”

  The federation was not born on Earth; rather, the federation invited Earth to join the many planets within the federation family due to Earth’s technological advancement of becoming a spacefaring civilization. Its membership granted access to the federation’s outer planets for trade and commerce, as well as some technological and social advancement for the betterment of the civilization and as long as the planet adhered to a strict and complex list of agreements, including fair social justice for its people. Failure to comply could result in the expulsion of the planet in question, and if the planet continued to break the rules set down by the council of the federation’s inner planetary membership, then a final formal request would be made. If this request was ignored and the current governmental structure could not be improved, resolved, or removed, then the federation would have no other recourse than to remove the civilization entirely as a possible threat to the federation as a whole. Removal would result in the total destruction of the offending civilization. When a new civilization is invited to join, it is made clear from the beginning that this is not a request that can be refused without dire consequences.

  Alternatively, if the outer planetary federation member toes the line and the civilization evolves to a satisfactory level of development, then the planet in question would be offered membership to the inner planetary federation. Membership would grant full and total access to their complete technological and social advancements. Joining the inner planetary members of the federation would mean just that: each planet within the new membership would be connected to the other planets via quantum gateways granting instantaneous travel via roads and space lanes to each and every planet in the collective.

  Only members that have achieved perfect social justice for their people can be joined in this way to the other planetary membership. At this point trade and commerce are concepts of the past and are no longer required, as the unification of planets is the overall goal of the federation. Only then can peace be secured and the whole protected from all threats. This is the controlling factor when approaching a new civilization. “Join us, change, and evolve” is the mantra of the federation, but to advance to this point can take hundreds of years. By the time the federation invited Earth to join the outer planets, Mars and several other planets within the solar system had declared independence but were still offered individual membership into the federation. Two hundred years on, only Earth is reported to be on the brink of being invited into the Inner Federation of Planets.

  The deaths of Dr. Zorn and Wheeler were recorded as accidental, but the repercussions of the attempt to rescue Professor Brookes lasted months and were closed with a less than perfect end to an illustrious career. Only due to the strict need for the project to maintain its secrecy was Commander Taylor allowed to retire honorably and with dignity.

  With his direct access to the facility now removed, Commander Taylor still retained a one-way communication system that he could use to send messages directly to Brookes. The one drawback is that these messages were read by off-station security. Although the staff was small, the messages had to be brief and make sense only to Brookes.

  The federation would send reports of possible interest to all retired commanders. Their many years of service could still prove valuable to the federation, so whenever issues occurred or a situation was solved or problems seemed to be spiraling out of control, a report of possible interest would be sent to the various commanders who had retired but were still available for such work. Commander Taylor was no exception, and in many ways he put himself out there more than most. Professor Brookes was one of the main reasons for this, and so far this has paid dividends. After reading various reports, he found a name that kept popping up from one report to another: Sam McCall, arrested for espionage, arrested for theft, arrest
ed for hacking. The list of jobs was endless, and each job had a common outcome: he had escaped from wherever he had been sent. After tracing back through his career, it quickly become apparent that he had been working for various factions within the federation, all using Sam’s talent to gain something upon the other faction. It was one big game of federation interplanetary politicking.

  Another report of possible interest that found its way to Commander Taylor’s desk was about a possible game-changing prototype that could prove tempting to the likes of Sam McCall, but being an inner planetary federation project, it made a tempting target for almost any outer federation faction, including Mars Federation, which at some point would almost certainly try and steal it for themselves. But if Taylor played his cards right, he could trick Sam into stealing it and then have him sent to Facility Zero with a bonus outcome of stopping Mars Federation from obtaining such a dangerous weapon.

  After thousands of reports and several months later, a third and final report landed on Taylor’s desk about a young Special Forces woman working on Mars. She had inadvertently killed the son of a high-ranking federation officer stationed on Mars. The evidence pointed at the son running some kind of drug syndicate, possibly with the support of his father. Information regarding this was uncertain. This report was trying to seek corroboration of guilt. This was serious, as it was considering an investigation into illegal activity of Mars Federation, which could lead to expulsion, but the report was also asking what should happen to Lt. Jessica Braose. Her record seemed perfect. She was brave, relentless, and had a strong belief in herself, and she would fight tooth and nail to resolve a wrong. She was the perfect person to throw to the wolves.

  Recommendation: Send to Facility Zero.

  Commander Taylor presses his intercom, and a male voice answers. “Bill, I need a message sent to the facility. Professor Brookes is about to get some more help.”

  Commander Taylor stares out of his penthouse apartment overlooking the majestic city capital of Mars and raises his glass in a toast. “This is for you, Professor. I had hoped I could have gotten you out of there, but your design and ideas worked, maybe a little too well. Even the help I sent you could not succeed, but still, ten glorious, escape-free years, and in a few days Facility One will be online. You made the federation a safer place, Professor, and your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” Taylor takes a sip of his drink and heads back to his desk, setting the glass down and opening the cigar box and taking out the last of his most prized cigars. He cuts the tip off and then lights it up, listening to the crackle of the cigar as the fire burns, the noise of the first pull on the cigar, the delightful taste. Nothing can ruin this moment as he pulls on the cigar again, savoring the taste.

  His study doors come crashing open with a bang as a smartly dressed woman storms into his inner sanctum, his PA close on her heels, trying to stop this unexpected intruder. “I do apologize, sir. I tried to explained to this woman that you were not to be disturbed.”

  Before the commander can reply, the woman says, “I’ve been trying to see you for the past week. You have not returned any of my calls or letters, and I’m running out of patience.” She takes Taylor’s cigar and drops it into his glass, causing the cigar to hiss as it’s extinguished, the commander now looking rather aghast at the action.

  “It’s okay, Bill. I’m more than happy to talk to Mrs. Brookes,” Taylor replies, his tone a little tense.

  “Okay then, sir. I’ll be heading off then. See you tomorrow. Good night, sir.” Bill leaves the room, closing the doors behind him.

  “Now, Mrs. Brookes, how can I help?”

  “How can you help? You can help by returning my husband. You have had ten years to find him and have currently come up with nothing. All these lies about you have no idea where he is…I’m certain of one thing: you know exactly where he is,” Mrs. Brookes replies, her emotional state increasing.

  “Mrs. Brookes, your husband’s predicament is a very tricky one. I can and have assured you that he is alive and well, but his whereabouts are currently secret. We have done everything in our power to retrieve your husband, but please understand that if your husband is unable to fix the problem himself, then it certainly must be almost impossible for our top experts to resolve the issue.”

  “Well, everything in your power is not good enough, and everyone I’ve contacted about this either blanks me or also has no clue of what’s been going on.”

  “You’ve contacted others?” Taylor asks with a tone of concern.

  “Just a few government friends and someone I know on the global news desk, but I’ve not told him anything, at least not yet. I said I would see what you had to say first.”

  “Okay then, but I’m rather concerned that you have spoken to others, especially as this is all very secret. Your husband knew this. I might be able to speak to someone, but it’s just all very dangerous. There are other parties involved that will want to keep all this under the general population’s radar, and you running about is causing a lot of heads to turn.” Taylor pauses, thinking for a moment. “I might be able to arrange for you to go visit where your husband was working. I’ll pull a few strings, call in some favors, but give me a few days. If I can’t help, then you see who you need to see, but please give me a few days first.”

  “You have had me chasing ghosts and promises for all this time, and none of them have given me a single shred of hope or proof of my husband’s whereabouts. The last tip you gave me took me almost five years to chase down, and now you say, ‘Let me pull a few strings,’ well, please forgive me for not jumping for joy,” Mrs. Brookes replies with anger and resentment in her voice. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you two hours to come up with something concrete, and after that time, if I still think you are stalling, tricking me, or pulling some kind of elaborate deception, I’ll contact my friend, and shortly after that, everyone will know what you and your shadowy friends have been up to.”

  The commander, looking visibly shocked from Mrs. Brookes’s outburst, starts to take a sip of his drink before realizing that his last cigar is sticking out of it. “Now look here, Mrs. Brookes, I have done everything in my power to try and resolve this sad problem, and to be frank, I’ve spent a considerable amount of personal resources, but you are right to be upset. I have let you down, but I give you my word that you will have all the answers you deserve within two hours. Someone I know owes me big, and to be honest, I was hoping to save that for a rainy day, but seeing how I don’t really have a choice, I’ll call it in. Now I don’t wish to be rude, but I need to make that call, and then you will have all your answers.” He offers Mrs. Brookes the door.

  Mrs. Brookes, not looking at all convinced, weighs up her options and slowly nods in agreement. “Two hours, not a single minute more. This is where you can contact me.” She offers Taylor her calling card, turns, and leaves.

  Taylor closes the door, locking it, and walks over to his desk. He puts down his ruined drink, cigar, and the calling card. Leaning down, he presses a concealed button to open a panel on the wall, revealing a wall safe. Entering his access code, he opens the safe and retrieves a phone. Returning to his desk, he sits down.

  He calls the only number listed and waits for it to answer.

  “I have an urgent customer that needs to vanish…No, not dead, vanished!…Yes, that’s correct…I’ll send you the details…Oh, one last thing. The customer has two daughters; they need to vanish also.”

  8

  Messages from the Past

  Facility Zero, 240 days online: federation year 2431

  Professor Brookes did not take my news regarding the near-zero possibility of any escape attempt very well. A week after our chat, we felt another fluctuation, and since that day Professor Brookes has kept himself to himself as the years outside the facility pass by.

  By trading items and doing favors, we’ve managed to obtain a few useful things—papers, pens, and even a combat knife that one of the volunteer security personnel had man
aged to smuggle in.

  Frank has decided to hang about with us, and from his encounters in the lost and found, he finds himself now semifamous. At most mealtimes the table that Frank chooses to sit at is soon overcrowded with the other prisoners wanting to hear the story of his exploits. It seems somehow the opposite when Abs sits down to eat; the other patrons seem to just melt away, which seems to suit Abs just as well.

  As the weeks go by, the interest behind what occurred in the lost and found seems to subside, and life within the facility goes back to what could be considered normal. Abs and I keep ourselves busy by going over what we had learned about this place and volunteering for almost every duty except for sanitation; it’s a mainly automatic process, but occasionally volunteers are required to remove blockages within the biotanks. Human waste, if converted correctly, can be used in many ways to help in the running of the facility, from drinking water, fertilizers, and composts to backup power generation for various machines. These run alongside the oxygen generators producing breathable air for the facility. Some hydrogen that is produced in the process is burned to produce water, and the rest is automatically vented. These jobs mainly are assigned as punishment, although there are a few that volunteer for such duties. Each to their own, I guess.

  Oddly, whenever Abs is out and about away from me, Samuel often appears out of the blue, just like some odd character from an ancient children’s cartoon. Funny how your mind somehow starts to connect with segments of information you just caught a fraction of a glimpse at just on passing.

  “Good evening, Sam. Have you come to any conclusions about what we discussed last time we talked?” Samuel is doing one of his mysterious appearances after Abs left just moments before. He sits down beside me, with the usual feeling of something being wrong.

  “Oh hey, Samuel. Nice of you to pop in. Well, not really. Brookes has decided to vanish on us, as I told him it’s practically impossible to escape from here with the limited information I have.” For some reason I find it easy to talk to Samuel, although he gives me constant skin-crawling creeps.